


...And Then the Others

by WhatLocked



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: ...ruined, 5+1, Childhood Memories, Feels and fluff, John is not phased, M/M, Sex, Sherlock is scandalised, Whipping, mentions (very brief) of the death of children, of different kinds, seriously - when will people learn to knock, sort of sex in public places, the return of Darcy, who really is a rubbish guard dog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-18
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-04 01:30:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14009235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatLocked/pseuds/WhatLocked
Summary: The only people Sherlock wants to see having sex, is John and himself (yes, there is a video).  He most certainly does not want to see his brother, nor his DI having sex and especially not together.John on the other hand, couldn’t care less.From John and Sherlocks POV.





	...And Then the Others

**Author's Note:**

> This is for all of you who suggested that I write about Sherlock and John finding Lestrade and Mycroft having sex everywhere after Greg finding them shagging everywhere in [If Not One, Then the Other](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13323057#comments). You don't have to have read that story to understand this one, but if you like to read about John and Sherlock shagging, then feel free to click on the link.
> 
> NTW

~~~~~~~~~~

## \- 5: And the Mighty Shall Fall to Their Knees

Sherlock pushed through the door, despite the receptionists calls for him to stop and did an instant about face and walked back out.

“No, just...God, no.”

John, who had been right behind Sherlock, trying to talk him out of being so irrational,  barely got a glimpse of Mycroft sucking Greg off, before he was jerked back.

“We’re leaving John” Sherlock announced and John quickly fell into step beside him.

“Totally did not expect that” John said as they made their way back into the elevator they had exited only a minute before hand.

Sherlock hummed out a noise that told John that he would rather he shut up now.  John did.

For a few seconds.

“Never thought I’d ever see your brother on his knees for anyone.”

A pained, high pitched sound came from the man next to him.  “No John, just - No!”

 

## \- 4: The Sound of Silence

To be fair, it did seem that the room on the other side of the door was empty.  Not a sound could be heard. Which was why, when Sherlock swiftly picked the lock and pushed open the door, it was with a smug grin and a twinkle in his eye.

It didn’t last long.

What greeted them was a sight that neither man was expecting when they decided to break into Mycroft’s office at the Diogenes club and fill his desk draws with Marshmallows.  (John had actually agreed when Sherlock suggested it as a form of retaliation for Mycroft having three, _three_ , armed men march into his examination room at the clinic and forcible remove him, mid appointment, and escort him to a disclosed location so he could try and bully John into coercing Sherlock into taking a mission in Paris for him.)  Apparently Marshmallows (especially the pink ones) were Mycroft’s ultimate weakness - a weapon that Sherlock only ever pulled out in the most extreme circumstances.

What was on the other side of the door was not something John had ever imagined happening inside the posh club but was now something that held certain possibilities.

Inside the the office, on the other side of the door, stood Mycroft Holmes, dressed in nothing but a pair of dark trousers, unbuttoned and unzipped, doing absolutely nothing to conceal his rather impressive erection, and held up with a pair of red suspenders, weilding a soft leather whip.  Laid over the small, dark brown leather armchair, his legs hanging over one side, his head and shoulders of the other, naked and his arse (still quite firm for someone of his age) up in the air, was Gregory Lestrade. His wrists and ankles were bound in red rope and a black strip of silk gagged the mans mouth.

For a brief second, Mycroft stopped, arm pulled back, ready to strike, and looked at the two men in the doorway.

“Leave them by the door and go” he ordered and then looked back to the man laid out before him and brought his arm down.  

John barely heard the whip make contact and the sharp inhale of breath before Sherlock dropped the bags of marshmallows and quickly walked away.

“You have to admit” John said as they settled into the back of the taxi that Sherlock couldn’t summon quick enough, “They do a pretty admiral job at sticking to the ridiculous rules of the club.”  John held back the grin as he saw Sherlock scowl, out of the corner of his eye. His brothers sex life really was not something he had ever wanted to witness nor discuss, but the slightly sadistic side of John couldn’t help himself.  “You’d get us get kicked out before any clothing was removed.”

Instantly Sherlock bristled.  And John let his smirk loose.

“Are you issuing a challenge, John?”  he asked, seemingly forgetting about the trauma he had just experienced.

‘Would I be the whipped or the whipper?”

“I don’t see why we couldn’t do it twice, both ways.”

“In that case, yes, I am definitely issuing a challenge.”

“I accept.”

## \- 3: Apparently He Does Do Cafe’s

“Um, hi guys?”

John wasn’t sure how else to greet two people, late on a Sunday night (or early Monday morning), in an empty Speedy’s, who he had thought were intruders, but was in actual fact two friends having very enthusiastic, (and not that John would say anything to anyone, but rather impressive) sex in a very small niech behind a cupboard containing pots and bottles and jars full of sauces and spices and other things John couldn’t be bothered cataloguing. John was amazed that two grown men could fit into such a tight space, let alone do what they were doing.

Not that he could see his face, (but John knew the scar on the back of  the calf as being the result of some of his own work) but Gregory Lestrade was currently being pinned up with his chest and face against the wall, his legs being held at an awkward angle so they stuck out behind the man who was not only holding them, but currently thrusting into his body at a rate far faster than John was aware that Mycroft could move.

Both were naked and rather sweaty.  John refused to question why the only piece of clothing (if you could call it that) was Mycroft’s umbrella, resting against the wall next to Mycroft’s thigh.

“ _Mmm, oh, God...John...what are….GOD, Mycroft, do that again_.”

“You maybe might want to keep the noise down, yeah.  Mrs H thought there were people trying to break into the cafe’ again.”

The response John got was Mycroft letting out a low groan and Greg emitting a high whimper.  

“Right, well, you two have a good night, then.  Just tidy up before you leave, yeah.”

If they heard him, (which he doubted as they were both rather focused on each other right at that moment), they never acknowledged it.  John gave a nod, that no one saw, and decided to leave before Sherlock had finished searching the back of the cafe and came in.

As he pushed through the swinging doors, that very man came around the serving bench.

“The back area is locked up and undisturbed.  What about the kitchen.”

“All sorted” John replied, deciding that the least details in the case would be better. “We can go home and back to bed.”

He walked forward and grabbed Sherlocks hand to lead him back out of the cafe’, but Sherlock held fast.

“So, the intruders were back there?”

“Not intruders, no?” John answered, giving Sherlocks hand another tug.

“Then who?  If it were Mr Chatterjee, he would have put the lights on.”

“Trust me, Sherlock,” John said, tiredness that one normally felt at three o’clock in the morning, washing over him again.  “You don’t want to know.”

The instant the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them.  Sherlocks interest was piqued.

He tugged his hand out of Johns and before John could issue a warning to his partner, Sherlock was pushing through the doors, into the kitchen.  John didn’t even count to three before Sherlock was rushing back out of the kitchen and to the front doors, dragging John along in his haste to get out of Speedy’s.  The look on his face was pure horror. John was scared that he would need to book Sherlock an appointment with Ella after this time.

Making sure the door to the cafe’ was locked, the two men made their way back into 221 B.  It was as they were going up the stairs that a conversation John had had, a while back now, came to mind.

“Huh” he huffed out in mild amusement.

“If you are wondering how my brother fit behind that cupboard the answer is with great difficulty.  I hope he gets stuck.”

“No, not at all.  It’s just…”

“If this is about any of their usually concealed body parts or positions, for the love of god, please leave it, John.”

“No, nothing like that.  It’s just, your brother once told me that he didn’t do cafe’s.  I guess he changed his mind.”

The groan that left Sherlocks mouth was also part whimper.

## -2: Home ~~Sweet~~ Home

John gently carded his fingers through Sherlock’s hair while the younger man laid with his head in Johns lap, in an almost catatonic state.

“Mycroft helped me with my first science experiment in that gazebo” the man mumbled as Johns fingers snagged on a knot in his hair.  It was one of the few things that he had said in the last two hours and, just like the few other things he had said, it had been completely random.

“I was three and we put celery stalks in jars of food colouring.”

“Water absorption in plants” John said, a lack of anything useful to help the man in his lap.

“Hmmm” came the reply.

There was silence in the room for another twenty minutes before Sherlock spoke again.

“When we were five we both spent several hours shovelling snow onto the gazebo and making a family of snowmen to sit on the benches.  One snowman to represent each of us.”

John continued to pet Sherlock’s hair.

“How is he?” came the voice of Mr Holmes as he stuck his head into the living room.  He wasn’t aware of the exact nature of Sherlock and Mycroft’s interaction and he seemed wise enough not to ask for details.  He knew his boys and how over dramatic they liked to act.

“He has moved onto multiple sentences” John supplied.

Mr Holmes gave a supportive nod and then left the two men alone.

The Holmes’ had invited their sons and their partners up to the family home to celebrate Violet and Siger’s fortieth wedding anniversary.  Neither Mycroft or Sherlock had any intentions of accepting the invitation but John and Greg, curious about the people who had raised such exceptional children, were both well on their way to being masters at manipulating the Holmes brothers.

John was now starting to think it wasn’t such a good idea.  

The first day and a half had gone surprisingly well.  The Holmes parents were lovely and Mycroft and Sherlock barely argued.  This could be because Mrs Holmes was not afraid to smack either of them across the back of the head whenever they were not behaving the way they were raised.

But just over two hours ago, Mrs Holmes had asked John and Sherlock to go find Mycroft and Greg.  It had taken only fifteen minutes to locate them out in the garden.

They were in the gazebo and Mycroft was getting what appeared to be a thoroughly good rimming from Greg.  If either men had heard Sherlocks shriek of despair, before he had turned and fled the scene, neither one acknowledged it.

Just like all the other times they had walked in on these two men going at it, John wasn’t bothered in the slightest and as he turned to go and follow Sherlock, he wondered if he shouldn’t be more affected by it.  He then decided that he should just be thankful that he wasn’t turned on by any of it. Sherlock would never forgive him.

“I spent all summer, when I was seven, learning _Four_ _Seasons_ on that Gazebo, with Mycroft as my audience.  I will never be able to play Vivaldi again without imagining… _.that_.”

“I’m sure you will be fine” John comforted.  Sherlock just shook his head.

“Nope.  A whole chunk of my childhood memories are ruined now.  And they are too imbedded in my memory to delete.”

Sherlock no longer sounded distraught.  He now sounded very pissed off.

John made a mental note to tell Mummy Holmes to not be surprised if the gazebo was in pieces - or had been set on fire -  before they left. She seemed very understanding of all of the odd behaviour of her boys, even without needing all the details.

## -1: Eminent Domain

“God - what are they doing to our couch.  Make it stop, John!” Pleaded Sherlock, clutching onto Johns jacket.

They were standing out on the landing to their living room.  Sherlock had stormed inside, after noting that the door knocker had been straightened again, to tell his brother to piss off.  

What he had seen had made him step straight back out, dragging John back, before reaching back into the room and slamming the door shut.

Unfortunately it didn’t stop the sounds of deep moans a breathy cries for ‘ _More, Gregory, more_.’

Sherlock visibly paled.

Without going in and pulling two fully grown, consenting men, out of a love locked, naked and sweaty embrace, there was not really much John could do.

“Come on” he said, gently prying Sherlocks fingers from around the lapels of his jacket.  “Lets go get a frozen yoghurt and then steal some hospital grade cleaner from Barts and when we get home, I’ll scrub the couch clean for you.”

Personally, it didn’t bother John that two men, other than himself and Sherlock were shagging on their couch.  Sure, it was just bad manners, but to be fair, the amount of times poor Greg had caught them shagging (and on his desk, no less), it was probably only fair turnaround.

Sherlock gave a feeble nod and then let John lead him back down the stairs, but not before Greg could be heard yelling out, a bit too enthusiastically, “ _Oh, god, Mycroft, I’m coming!_ ”

 

## +1: A Little Human Touch

The only reason that Sherlock agreed to do this was that he was worried too.  Normally he wouldn’t give Lestrade’s thoughts or feelings about the outcome of a case two thoughts after he went home.  After all, he was a grown man and had friends and family he could confide in. Why would he want Sherlock’s lack of sympathy?

But this case had been bad.  It had been short, but bad. It had resulted in the unnecessary and deliberate death of four children all under the age of six and had they been and hour faster at solving the riddle that had been presented to them, those lives would have been spared.  

But they hadn’t.  They had all been too slow.  And Lestrade had taken it extra hard.  For some reason, that Sherlock couldn’t fathom, he blamed himself.  He had refused the counselling services the MET offered, he had refused to stay back and ‘ _reflect_ ’ on the case with the other members of his team and he had refused a pint with John.

What he had done, was leave without a word to anyone.

That had been just over thirty hours ago and John was worried.  They knew Mycroft was out of the country, so that meant Lestrade had gone home alone.  They also knew that he had not contacted Sally since he had left the Yard, after the case.

John had tried calling, to check up on him.  He had left messages on his voicemail, inviting him over for a quiet night at Baker Street with Chinese, beer and a football match on the telly.  There had been no response.

Normally, Sherlock would have told John to just leave it, but to be honest, the case had shaken Sherlock as well and if it had left him - _Sherlock_ \- feeling raw, then god only knew how it was leaving a man, such as Lestrade, who was never shy to let people know exactly what he was feeling.

That was why they had just broken into Lestrade’s apartment so they could hopefully, see the man and hopefully get him to talk to John.

As they stepped into the hallway, shutting the door behind them, a soft growl sounded in the dark.  Sherlock felt John instantly tense up. Sherlock rolled his eyes. Darcy was the most useless guard dog to ever exist.  

“Shh, girl” Sherlock whispered, crouching down and holding out his hand.  The dog stepped closer to them, into the light that was coming through the glass pane in the door and sniffed Sherlocks hand.  Instantly, she dropped to the floor and rolled onto her back, waiting for a belly rub.

“You utterly useless animal” Sherlock murmured fondly, as he complied with her wish.  John stood back. He still wasn’t overly keen on the dog after their last meeting.

“Maybe we should call out, let him know we are here?” John suggested.

“If he was awake or home, he would have come out to see what the noise was.  Not even Geoff is so unobservant that he wouldn’t notice someone entering his house and petting his dog, if he were awake.”

John refused to correct Sherlock on Greg’s name and instead stepped past Sherlock and Darcy.  As expected, Sherlock stood back up and followed him.

It was easy to see that the living areas were empty as they made their way to the back of the flat.  The bathroom door was shut and there was no light on, so clearly he wasn’t in there. That left the bedroom.

At the end of the hall, a soft light was spilling from the open door.  Quietly they made their way to the room. Both men would be happy, just to see that Lestrade was alive, even if he was asleep.

When they got to the room they saw that the man was indeed sleeping - snuggled up against Mycroft Holmes, who was sitting against the headboard, reading a report.

“I thought you were in Germany” Sherlock stated, abruptly, as he took in the scene before him.  

Even to John it was clear that the two men were naked under the duvet and had clearly had sex before Greg had fallen asleep.

Any minute now, Sherlock was going to have another melt down.

“Gregory needed me, so I came back” was Mycroft’s reply as he placed the report he had been reading on his lap and looked up at the two men in the doorway.  John was startled out of his careful observations of Sherlock’s reactions.  Mycroft never cancelled meetings, especially international ones.  He hadn’t since Sherlock got clean.

“How is he?” Sherlock asked and again, John was surprised.  It was not the reaction he was expecting.

“Troubled, but I feel he will get over it.  Is that all?” Mycroft asked picking the report up and turning his attention back to it.  “It’s just that, he hasn’t slept much and I don’t really want him waking up.”

“That was all” Sherlock answered and turned to leave.  

“Good night Sherlock, Doctor Watson” Mycroft said gently as they left.

“Night” Sherlock called back and they made their way out of the flat.  John was relieved that Greg seemed to be doing fine and had someone with him and that Sherlock didn’t have a hissy fit over seeing the top half of his brother naked.  Sherlock was happy because Lestrade finally had someone who would look after him and Mycroft finally had another person who would let him reveal his human side. They would be good for each other. If only they would stop having sex in places that Sherlock frequented.


End file.
